Between Nightmares and Dreams
by hetalia-deathnote-kuroshitsuji
Summary: He's not usually one to cry, but most people would get emotional if their kid had just flat out told them that they're going to die and want to go home. Fem!America, Fem!France, RusAme, past FrUK, depression, cancer, character death, sexual implications. Rating will go up. Originally called A Dream in a Nightmare.
1. I Want to Go Home

**A Dream in a Nightmare**

**Chapter One**

He was making me dizzy. Not the good, I'm in love dizzy, but the bad, I think I might faint dizzy. He was walking around the classroom quickly, talking loudly, and waved his hands about (which reminded me of Feliciano and Lovino Vargas). I looked at the desk, at the wall; anywhere but the teacher. I wanted to avoid another trip to the hospital. I've been there enough times as it is. But the pain was getting worse and I knew the blackness was going to be taking over very soon, and all the people in the room will be pushed into chaos again. A part of me wanted to give the others a warning, but I didn't feel strong enough to write and my voice refused to work. Well, I could have spoken, but I didn't trust myself. It would have come out as a scream, most likely. Instead, I had sent a desperate look to Elizaveta, to mouthed, "What's wrong?"

I was slipping and falling.

Failing.

Everything was wrong.

The room spun faster around me, becoming a blur, but then there was peace. Dark, black peace.

* * *

That's the thing with cancer; it's like a boat in the ocean. It's just a bright, seemingly normal, sunny day. Then, something happens, something stops working correctly and fails and you're sinking. Before you know it, before you can _stop _it, you're already drowning. Some people go quickly, others suffer. There are the lucky people who get saved, and then there are those who get saved, only to be thrown off the savior ship and back into the vast and unending ocean.

I'm one of those lucky people. Or, I was, until I got thrown off my savior ship.

For me, it started with a brain tumor. We caught it before anything serious could happen and I was lucky that wasn't that big and grown where it did, because it hasn't done that much damage to my brain, leaving me almost fully and perfectly functional.

Of course, like usual, it was growing back. And it was already too big for it to be fixed. Or, safely, at least. And from what I had heard, it had already spread. (So maybe I pretended to sleep while my dad and doctor talked over me from opposite sides of the somewhat comfortable hospital bed I spent almost every day in.) And to my lungs, as far as I had heard. (I actually did fall asleep during that conversation, so I don't know _all _the details. And don't give me that look, having cancer is tiring!)

The following weeks after the passing out in class consisted of sitting in a hospital bed all the time, watching stupid and overly dramatic soap operas. And of course, those times when you're stuck getting a stupid chemotherapy treatment. (I mean, really? I'm dying. Don't waste those drugs on me and give them to someone who still has a chance!) Then I'm not hungry (and even when I am, I usually throw up what I ate later, but hey. If I'm hungry, I'm going to eat), and… well, my hair. It hasn't started to fall out yet, but… it will soon. I just don't want to die bald, that would suck. And last on this list—the headaches never cease.

I sighed, pushing the food away from in front of me. "Dad…?"

"Yes?" My dad could be pretty annoying, but you have to love him. I mean, all the stuff he's done for me is amazing. I still wish mom wouldn't have left though. (Really, I haven't seen her or my own _twin brother _since we were eight, and now we're seventeen.)

"Can't…" I paused. I didn't want to break his heart more than I already had, but, "Can't I go home? I… I'm dying, and both of us know it. I don't want to die in a hospital."

His green eyes (and when I say green, I mean _green_) were full of tears. He's not usually one to cry, but most people would get emotional if their kid had just flat out told them that they're going to die and want to go home. "Oh, Alex!" He hugged me (gently, of course) and sighed. "You're not going to die poppet; if you were, I promise I would take you home!"

"Thanks, Dad…" The words honestly weren't reassuring. I'm just not going to live, I know that. I hate my fate with all my heart, but me living through something like this was like a house in the path of a tornado—ultimate death.

I just wanted to go home, email Kiku, and play video games. Because that's how I'd want to spend my last days (and going home equals no chemotherapy, which means HAIR). Now I just need dad to except it. If he did, I could be eating ice cream right now. But no, I'm stuck in a hospital dying and eating the worst food on the planet (besides airplane food. Yet again, you usually eat that while in the _air, _so…). Well, my Dad's food is pretty disgusting, too.

According to the hospital, though, I haven't reached the dying stage yet. Which means that my Dad got kicked out the moment visiting hours ended. It was nice, having the quiet room to myself. (Yes, the bed next to me was empty, so there are no fights about what to watch on the tiny, failure of a TV.)

Well, until the next week. "Hiya, Alex," one of the nurses greeted, holding thin white sheets and the usual itchy (and also thin) and usual cream colored comforter.

"Hey," I replied, muting the soap opera I was currently on. It's not like it mattered, I didn't understand it anyways. It was in Spanish.

"How are you holding up?" she began to make the bed next me, easily sparking my interest.

I looked down at my hands. The skin was so pale anymore (was it even… _me_?), I wondered what I actually looked like now. I haven't seen my reflection since that day (which is the day I passed out in class). "Fine," was my eventual response.

"Fine enough to share that TV?"

"What's their name?" I asked. Chances are I won't know them, but I might as well learn it for future reference.

"Ivan Braginski."

That name rang a bell. (It took a minute to remember though, that stupid brain tumor made me forget why the name was so familiar.) He'd been my childhood rival. Actually, we had been friends as kids, but when we were thirteen… things happened, we're enemies now, pretty much. "Is he, by any chance, and extremely tall Russian guy?" And I hadn't seen him since we were fourteen, though he always had towered over me.

"Yeah. So, at least you'll be with someone you know!"

"Ha, he was my enemy when we were younger, and I haven't really talked to him since."

She hit the pillow (to fluff it, I'm sure) and laughed. "Well, that'll make for some interesting conversations."

"What does he have…?"

The smile left her face, "I'm honestly not sure."

"Oh," I glanced over at the TV; the muted Spanish soap opera still was still on. What did he have, and why did I care? That had been, what, four years ago? I leaned back against the pillow, closing my eye. Great. Not only am I going to die (possibly bald) in a boring hospital, but my _enemy _will see the whole thing. Lovely.

Now I really would love to go home…

* * *

**This is the longest chapter I've written for a fan fiction…**

**Anyways, this story… The main POV is Alex (Fem!America), and I don't think I'll be changing POVs. So, yeah.**

**Things will be inaccurate; I am doing research, but I still have a lot of other stuff going on, which makes it hard to sit down and just research.**

**Also, the part where she's talking about her mom and her twin… Her mom is Fem!France and her twin is Matthew/Canada. (Well, Canada and America are pretty much always twins, so... |'D)**

**Peace. Love. Anime.**

**~hetalia-deathnote-kuroshitsuji~**


	2. The White Curtain

**Chapter Two **

Waking up the next morning sucked, mostly because it meant that tomorrow was my next chemotherapy treatment. I kept my eyes closed as long as possible, despite that it wouldn't make a difference. Your heartbeat has a slower pattern when you sleep (or faster, depending on you dream), and mine just sounded… normal. So after lying there for a half an hour of pretending to sleep, I opened my eyes. I could only see half of the room; a large white curtain blocked my view of the other bed and the door. Wonderful, Ivan's here.

The TV was off. I wondered if he was sleeping or if he just wasn't wasting time watching Spanish soap operas like I did.

Should I say something? Did he even know that _I _was the other person occupying the room? He had to have known, right? Well, no, maybe not…

"Alexandrea, I can tell you are freaking out on the opposite side of the curtain," the accented voice came out of nowhere. Instead of answering, I just sighed. Within the next minute, the curtain had been pulled away and Ivan was smiling at me (not like _normal _smiling, it was just a creepy, somewhat stalker like smile). I stared back at him. "Mm, you do look quite different. That tumor of yours is evident."

"Shut up," I mumbled, not in the mood to fight. I was too tired, despite the fact that I had only woken up a half hour ago. Pretending to sleep can really wear you out. (And, as much as I hate to admit it, it was somewhat hurtful the way he had worded that. As if I didn't know that stupid tumor and the dumb cancer didn't make beautiful.)

"Are those really the first words you're saying to me? It has been a while since we've talked, _Alexandrea_."

I stared the other way. The wall was a boring white with a simple picture and a window that had the blinds closed over it. I can't even see the outside world anymore, can I?

"Silent treatment? Oh, that's too bad."

"Just give me the remote to the TV, close the curtain, and don't talk to me."

"Now why would I give you the remote? You'll just watch another one of those stupid American shows like _Jersey Shore_."

"_Actually_," I began, glaring at him, "I want to watch my Spanish soap opera. Now give me the remote." I held out my hand expectantly.

* * *

The next few weeks sucked. He constantly talked to me through the curtain, interrupting me from my Spanish soap operas. One morning I woke up to his face just inches from mine, making me jump and nearly scream. He just laughed. Stupid Russian…

But by the next week, he just stopped. No more talking through the curtain, no more distracting me from my Spanish soap operas. He just stayed quiet. It was nice, almost like how it was before I got stuck with him. Though it was weird, why had he just stopped? I almost felt worried for him; what if he was getting sicker and he just couldn't taunt me anymore? It had really only been a week, but it was possible. It's cancer. It can do things to you at an extreme rate.

Tuesday morning, my dad came to visit me. He brought me another book (I tell him not too, but he _still _bugs me to read all the time). Usually though, it was something I didn't relate to or just really didn't care about. This time, it was a book about a girl with cancer. A love story was mixed in as well. Well now, why can't it be like that for everyone? Excluding the dying of course. It was the first time I had read through an entire book. And the first time I'd read a whole book in one day.

We talked for a while, he told me about how mom had actually called for once. Of course, she was in tears when he told her what had happened. Now it left me to wonder if Matthew knew. Did he? Part of me almost didn't want him to know for so many different reasons.

Ivan hadn't said anything from the other side of the curtain, so I finally asked, "Ivan? Why'd you actually shut up for once?" after muting my Spanish soap opera.

I heard him sigh. "No reason."

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. 'No reason'? It's me, your rival enemy thing! Why aren't you trying to torment me or something?"

"Rival enemy thing?" I couldn't see him, but I knew he was shaking his head. "And I do have my reasons. None of which you need to know, nor should you have any interest in them."

"But I do. So tell me."

"Demanding now, aren't we?" He tsked. "The main reason being I'm tired. And the others? Well, you really don't need to know."

I sighed. "…Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Depends... What is it?"

"What kind of cancer do you have? Like… your story, I guess."

He paused; would he tell me? Probably not. But I couldn't help but wonder. I wanted to know so badly that—

"Fine, but only if you tell me yours as well."

Oh, the joy. Well, we have all day. And night. And the next day. Unless something happens to one of us, which for me is likely. Him? Well, I guess I'm about to figure that out. "You first, or me?"

* * *

**Well, it is shorter than the first, but their stories are next, so that will probably be a rather long chapter. Also, I know that on my updating schedule it says Saturday for this, but I'm so busy that day I don't even have time to like breath. So, here it is! **

**Please review? Please? –insert America's puppy dog eyes here-**

**Also, the book she's talking about it _The Fault in Our Stars _by John Green. GO READ IT NOW. Seriously, you will not regret it. (Alsom to any Nerdfighters reading- DFTBA!)**

**So, that's all for now!**


	3. Her Story

**Chapter Three**

My mother left with my twin brother when I was eight years old. Both of us had known it was coming; mom and dad had been constantly fighting for the past four years. Probably more, but beyond that we were too you to realize what was going on. I remember mom stomping into Matthew's room, packing everything into several suitcases, then into her and dad's room. Matthew and I stood there watching, holding tightly onto each other, and then mom took him away. We haven't heard a word from them since. My guess mom went back to France, dragging my brother along with her.

A few years passed, and I was thirteen. In October, I started to feel kind of sick, and I just passed it off as a head cold and went on with all of the stuff I usually do. But one day during basketball practice I just passed out. I probably shouldn't have gone that day in the first place, since my head was pounding.

I woke up in a white room. It burned my eyes. My body was connected to a bunch of different stuff, and my dad was asleep in the chair next to me. I sighed, trying my best to relax. It didn't really work all that well, I started freaking out. Dad woke up then, "Alex?"

"Dad… What happened?"

He paled. "You passed out during basketball practice, so they brought you here since you hit your head so hard…" he paused, a concentrated look coming over his face like he was trying to decide what to say next. "They found… something."

Upon hearing that I had a brain tumor… I passed out. Again. At least my head hit a pillow this time.

The next year sucked. Sure, I was _cured_ but I had to be so careful it was horrible. I wished I would have died. Plus, at that point, I had no best friend to stop me. I hadn't for a while. A year after my mom left… things went down. My best friend and I got into countless fights… and then we were enemies.

When I turned fifteen, a new boy came to our school. He had just moved from Japan and the best part was, he was a gamer. His English wasn't the best (and even now, he still speaks Engrish), but that was fine with me. We quickly became friends, and things were all good. He knew nothing about my past battle with that brain tumor, and I didn't know about his story. It didn't matter though, it was peaceful around him.

I had a few other friends. Elizaveta and Gilbert were always fun to hang around, though they fought like an old married couple. Feliciano and Lovino were always nice to me. Really, you've guessed—I'm not that popular girl with the entire football team chasing after me. Well… that's not true. They do, but more for my body than anything. Plus, I was a cheerleader for a year.

Then, the next thing I knew, I was seventeen. Most of the year was great. I mean, it's senior year. And true, I'm younger than pretty much everyone, since they all turned eighteen at some point in the year and I wouldn't until after graduation, but it's not like it mattered. But then… the tumor grew back. We didn't know. It's far too late to catch it. It's spread, and it's cancerous.

April came around, and graduation was just around the corner. Right out of our grasp, the only thing blocking it was a few weeks and exams. And for me, that day. The day I passed out in class changed everything _again. _Why can't I just get a break already? What did I do to get this? I just wanted to get through high school, go to college, get a job, maybe even get married and have kids.

Yeah, I can just _so _see that happening now.

* * *

"…And that's it…" I frowned, leaning my head back against the pillow.

"Hm… interesting… I forgot all about your mother and brother leaving."

"Shut up."

"Well that's not very nice," Ivan pouted.

"Get used to it."

* * *

**Not really long, but it covers what I need it to. Also, if you reviewed and I didn't answer, I'm sorry! I try to answer all of my reviews, but sometimes I don't remember who I did answer and who I didn't. If this isn't that great or somewhat scattered, I started writing it and then stopped for a while, then came back to it tonight [this morning]. So, yeah. :U**

**Hope you liked it! I'll try and have the next chapter up soon.**


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